


the earth moves slowly

by AlasPoorAndy



Category: Bandom, The Who
Genre: Dom/sub, Kink, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Sex, sex but with EMOTIONS, true looooveeeeee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6675931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlasPoorAndy/pseuds/AlasPoorAndy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>my heart is like a broken cup, i only feel right on my knees</p>
            </blockquote>





	the earth moves slowly

**Author's Note:**

> someone asked for sub!roger and dom!pete so here you go! i hope you guys like it!

Under his gaze, I felt immobile. Under his touch, I felt alive. Under his care, I felt wholesome. I have never needed someone so badly before.

Sure, there were quick, dirty fucks with slutty groupies between shows, and drunken hookups at big celebrity parties. But nothing would compare to the feeling knowing that Pete wanted me, roping me right back in to a horribly addictive world once more, yet one where I went willingly under his command.

His eyes were so light that they nearly blended into white, giving him a ghostly, haggard look, yet when he looked at me with that powerful intensity, I felt like I was surrendering myself entirely to him. He looked cold, distant, and harsh with his physicality but only I knew that he was warm. I was the only one allowed to feel him like that. 

Only in secret privacy was I allowed to melt into him, bring down my guard and enjoy his attention. In low light and between scratchy hotel bedsheets, I felt his warm hands trace and reclaim my skin, massaging my muscles and brushing my hair. He took care of me, kept me clean, touched me thoroughly. All the long weeks in between secret meetings were all made worth it when I sank into his arms and his warm body. And when that firm touch changed and he grabbed me roughly, pinning my arms above my head and letting his fingers intrude wherever they pleased, I eagerly fell into submission for him. I wanted him to use me. I trusted his touch. I loved being entirely and wholly his.

He told me the only place I belonged was on my knees in front of him, naked and begging. He told me I looked beautiful when he stuffed himself in my mouth. He told me liked how I cried out when he pulled my hair. I liked when he put me in my place like that. I wanted to be beautiful for him. I wanted to be good for him. 

I waited for weeks until a hint would be dropped and I knew we could find time together. I waited for that thrilling moment when gentle loving turned to rough loving, and he used my body recklessly. I loved the harsh sting when he pushed himself inside of me initially, reminding me that he could hurt me and then make me feel better. He was doing this for me. He said he loved me.

I said I loved him. I cried it out, I moaned it, I whispered it as he fucked me and dispensed that wonderful, addictive pleasure for me and only for me. Though he was quiet when he fucked me like that, each whimper that escaped him made it all worth it. 

Other times, before he was reunited with me in that most beautiful and intimate way, he would surprise me with tenderness and I knew I was never going to escape his hold on me. Most fondly, I remember him combing my hair after I showered in his hotel room. I sat in front of him, wrapped in a towel, as he used his own comb on me, then was determined to kiss every square inch of my freshly clean skin. Then he discarded my towel and took me into his arms and finally I was allowed to melt into him again.

He would tease me for hours sometimes, slowly drawing his fingers in and out of me. He enjoyed feeling me at his own leisure, and I enjoyed being held on edge as long as it meant Pete was aroused by me. He liked hearing me plead for more, then he just moved slower until I was writhing and aching for him. 

He liked it best when my wrists were up by my head and my knees were pulled up to my chest, and he could fuck me while I was pinned down underneath him. He locked his eyes with mine the whole time and I felt extremely vulnerable, but I let it happen. I knew Pete would be there to take care of me. I knew Pete wanted to make me feel good.

“You’re my slut,” Pete said gruffly, each word punctuated by a stiff snap of his hips.

I was biting on my lip so hard I could taste blood. The pleasure entwined with pain electrified me, a feeling I only got from him. “I’m yours, I’m all yours, Pete, I love you.”

“You belong to me.”

“Use me, you own me.”

He kissed me too long until our lungs burned for more air. He bit me too hard until pain went to pleasure then back to pain. He fucked me long after both of us came and we were both raw, just because he didn’t want to leave his territory. When he removed himself we both felt the immense loss. 

Now when Pete looked at me, I saw him become small and vulnerable. Immediately he crawled into my arms, wrapping himself around me. I kissed him and rubbed his back, cradling him as he shook. I pulled the blankets over us and we clung to each other, not ready to accept the fact that we would have to leave again. 

I told Pete I loved him, and I kept telling him, and he told me back, and we whispered to each other and pressed against one other so close that we hoped we would finally fuse together as one. We continued loving, cold and desperate, until the sun came up from behind the cheap curtains. We cleaned each other, we dressed each other, we fed each other. He left first and I waited twenty minutes after him. We both got into our separate cars and drove our separate ways, back to our wives and children, guilty of how much relief one night could bring. And that would be it until we broke down again, weeks down the road.


End file.
